Listen, would ya?
by squad51rescue
Summary: A stand alone companion piece to "Reflections". After an argument where he is told that he "doesn't listen", one of the men reflects upon it and begins to believe that it is true.
1. Chapter 1

Listen, Would Ya?

_These guys, gals, and the show do not belong to me, just borrowing them for some fun!_

_Thanks for the challenge, Var, this one is for you! (Although it is definitely going to be longer then I had envisioned!)_

Roy DeSoto pulled his Porsche into the parking lot of Station 51, muttering under his breath. He angled the nimble car into the spot next to his partner's white Land Rover, not bothering to back it in. He eased his 6'1 frame out of the car and moved rapidly towards the side door of the station. Still talking to himself, he breezed through the door, grunting in acknowledgement to the hails from some of the men from both C shift and A shift.

"What the heck is wrong with him?" One of the linemen from C shift queried, looking at the retreating back in puzzlement. "DeSoto is always early, and I think he has more words in his vocabulary then that!"

A shift's lineman, Marco Lopez, looked up from the cup of coffee he was pouring at the stove. "Maybe he hasn't had his coffee yet?"

There were mumbled agreements chorused out as the men returned to their prior activities. Papers rustled, coffee flowed, and conversation resumed as the incident was quickly forgotten.

"She says **I don't listen** to her…..what about her not listening to me…."Roy mumbled, stalking across the apparatus floor and slamming shoulder first into the swinging door that led to the lockers. He slammed to an abrupt halt just inside the door, oblivious to the door swinging back and smacking him in revenge. He groaned and slapped a hand to his head at the slightly raised voices that greeted him.

"Listen, would ya, Chet? You can't say that to a chick and….oh, hey Roy!" Johnny interrupted his discourse and spun around to face his partner, brown shirt dangling from his fingers; he paused a second as if remembering what he had been doing before his heated discussion with Chet Kelly. Grabbing a hanger, he draped the shirt over it and shoved it back in the locker. "What did you do on your days off?"

"Not a damn thing, according to my wife," Roy blurted out into the shirt he was pulling off over his head. At the silence that followed his uncharacteristic answer, he looked over at John Gage and realized that he now had the full attention of both Gage and Kelly. They were staring at him, shocked expressions fully engaged.

"Oh great, now someone listens to me," DeSoto groused under his breath, yanking the shirt off his arms and tossing it haphazardly into the locker. He grabbed a white t-shirt out of his bag that he had dropped onto the bench; he chanced a quick glance over at his partner.

Johnny was biting his lip in an apparent effort to remain silent. His eyes darted sideways and met Roy's.

"Joanne, huh?" He finally asked quietly, sidestepping closer to Roy so that Kelly couldn't hear them. He shrugged his blue uniform shirt on and leaned against the locker next to Roy's, fingers busy buttoning as he gazed quizzically at the other man.

"Yeah, says I don't listen to her. Says I never listen to anything that she has to say, that I tone her out, hear what I want to hear…..selective hearing she calls it," Roy snapped angrily, jerking up his navy blue pants and tucking in his shirt. Johnny glanced at his watch and hastily backed up to his locker to finish dressing before roll call. Pants and shirts in place, he dropped down into his locker and stretched his long legs onto the bench to pull on his black socks and black shoes, tilting his head towards Roy as he did so.

"You, uh…I mean, what did you say back to her?"

Roy slammed the locker shut and glared at the younger man. "What was I supposed to say? You're the expert with women, you tell me!"

He turned and stomped out of the room, leaving Gage dumbfounded with his hands hovering over his partially tied shoes. Kelly moved up beside the momentarily frozen paramedic and smirked.

"Listen, Gage, you should know better than to…."

"Shuddup Chet!" Johnny spat out, moving back into action. "I can handle Roy, you go hang the hoses or somethin'!"

Chet nodded sagely and slowly followed Roy's path out the door. "Gladly, gladly my friend…."

John sighed and dropped his feet to the floor, rubbing his face with both hands, before bouncing up and following the lineman. "Oh boy, this is gonna be one long shift…"

After roll call and receiving their assignments for the day, the paramedics performed their calibrations and checked their supplies, moving methodically but silently through their day to day activities. After several failed attempts to engage DeSoto in any kind of conversation, Johnny gave up and retreated to the dorm to make the beds and clean the floors.

Roy, his mumblings finally silenced, furiously attacked the apparatus floor with a mop. He gazed into the dirty water, thoughts swishing through his head. He then pounded the mop back into the bucket, splashing half of the water back onto the floor and his boots. He ignored the minor flood and slapped the mop haphazardly back across the section of the floor that he had just cleaned.

He was unaware of the two men watching him; his captain was leaning on the doorframe of his office, while Mike Stoker leaned on his own mop in the doorway of the day room and observed. Two more pairs of eyes joined the engineer in the doorway and silence reined for several minutes as they too watched the strange behavior of the usually reserved paramedic.

"What is going on with Roy?" Marco whispered to Chet, waving his hand in the direction of the bay. Kelly grabbed the back of his friend's shirt and pulled him backwards.

"Wife troubles….how long do you think it will take Gage to get it out of him?"

"End of shift, at least….." Marco mused thoughtfully. "Roy can be pretty tight lipped about things."

"No way, man," Chet hissed in reply. "Listen, you know how Johnny gets. He's like a dog with a favorite bone; he's not gonna let up! I say he gets it out of Roy by the end of their second run."

The linemen continued to argue as Stoker moved back into the room, smiling at the heated discussion but declining to take part in it. Intent on finishing his task, he shooed the men with a flapping hand towards the kitchen.

Captain Hank Stanley rubbed a hand on his chin as he took in the sight of DeSoto mopping the same area of floor for the third time, his actions still fierce and frenzied. He sighed as the sound of raised voices filtered out of the day room; he pushed himself in resignation from the doorframe and poked his head into the other room. That was enough to silence them.

He moved across the bay, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room, emptied of vehicles. Totally oblivious to the commotion around him, Roy continued his assault on the unresisting cement, his back towards the noise. When Stanley cleared his throat, the younger man jumped and dropped the mop.

"Sorry, pal," he said softly, resting his hand for a second on DeSoto's shoulder. "Something bothering you?"

Roy blinked at him a moment in confusion, before bending down to pick up the mop. He rested both hands on the handle and looked at his captain. "I guess so. It's just something my wife said; I need to think it through."

"Well, think it through a little faster, Roy. Your buddies in there are worried about you." Stanley swept his hand towards the kitchen, then moved it back and with two pointing fingers motioned towards the dark rectangle of wet floor the two men were standing on. "You've mopped the same patch of floor at least three times."

Roy groaned inwardly but kept his face expressionless as he realized the truth of what his captain was saying. "Right, Cap. Sorry."

Hank nodded and strolled back to his office, keeping his smile at bay until he hit the sanctuary of his little room. "Twit," he mouthed, grinning widely but feeling a pang of sympathy for DeSoto. "I wonder what she said."

Feeling disgusted with himself, Roy steadfastly mopped the garage in a grid pattern. He was careful to keep his movements steady and calm, not wishing to draw any more attention to himself then he already had. He couldn't believe that the argument between him and Joanne earlier was spilling over into his work space.

"Is that what happens after you had been married for four or five years?" He pondered to himself, careful not to vocalize his churning thoughts. "Every little thing blows up into a gargantuan "problem", and then it all follows you into work?"

He paused briefly to survey the floor, making sure he was on track, before continuing on his sudsy odyssey. "The really rotten thing about this whole thing is, I don't even know if she was referring to a certain incident, or the entire time that we have been married. I mean, why, does she bring it up now, that I don't **listen** to her? Does that also mean that I don't listen to the guys here at work, that I tune them out too if I don't like what they're saying? Oh, hell…"

The confused paramedic stopped again, realizing that what he had just thought could very well be true. He definitely had developed a deaf right ear with Johnny; driving in the squad with the often talkative Gage had resulted in him filtering out, sometimes, a lot of his inane chatter. This was something he most assuredly did with his wife.

"Just like I do with Jo," Roy mumbled, out loud this time. "I harvest through their words, their chatter, their complaints and whining, and pick out only what I want to hear. And the rest of the guys, I simply absorb myself into something, like reading, so that their conversations and arguments just blend into a nice, soothing white noise….

Slamming the mop into the bucket for a final time, Roy rolled the whole thing out the back door. He dumped the little water remaining in the container and rinsed it out, then hung the mop upside down to dry on the rack attached to the building. He forced himself to take a calming breath and walked over to his car, running his hand along the polished surface;he continued to the block wall that divided the parking lot from the narrow strip of land, housing an industrial building, behind it. Turning, he leaned against the already sun warmed blocks and folded his arms, listening to the sounds of the morning traffic roaring on the freeway behind him.

"Maybe she's right….I don't really listen…."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The klaxons sounded, interrupting Roy's brooding. He grabbed the call slip from Captain Stanley as he trotted past him, reaching the driver's door of the squad at about the same time as Johnny slid into the bench on the passenger side. He handed off the call slip to his partner as both men dropped their helmets on their heads and tightened the chin straps.

"Go left, and then two miles to Trenton, make a right. We can save a couple of minutes going down that alley behind those new apartments, as long as there's not a garbage truck down there," Johnny advised, slipping the call slip under the visor and glancing over at Roy.

"Got it," DeSoto acknowledged, smiling slightly at the other man's questioning look. John seemed satisfied with that for the moment, and focused on the traffic and the intersections. They reached their destination in about eight minutes; Gage determined, by looking at the apartment number, that the call was located on the second floor of the lushly landscaped complex. After several minutes of following his rapidly moving partner, Roy was beginning to feel like a rat in a maze. The numerous turns and bewildering numbering sequences of the units had him contemplating what the architect must have been smoking when he designed the posh but thoroughly confusing labyrinth of concrete dwellings.

A triumphant grin flicked across John's face when they cleared yet another corner and arrived at the specified apartment. Immediately his features composed themselves into the serious, professional mask that he had become quite adept at using. Standing slightly off to the side of the door upon hearing the raised voice emitting shrilly from within, he pounded on the door with his palm while calling out "fire department".

There was a noticeable pause before the door cracked open and an eye appeared; apparently satisfied that Gage was indeed "fire department", the orb retreated and the sound of a chain being jerked was heard. The door flew open and Roy couldn't help his reflexive twitch backwards at the suddenness of it. He made enough of a scraping noise with his shoes on the concrete balcony for Gage to shoot him an inquisitive glance before nudging the door open further with his foot and following the door answerer inside .Chiding himself for his unusual agitation, DeSoto trailed after John into the apartment and glanced warily about, not realizing that his nervousness was projecting onto his partner. Johnny looked at him again before focusing his attention on the awkwardly sprawled man on the thick forest of green shag carpet. Probably in his late forties, the blond, curly haired man was lying flat on his back with his hands folded on his stomach and his eyes shifting back and forth between the two medics. He was clothed in cutoff blue jean shorts and a light green t-shirt, which was stained brown across the front. Coffee, definitely coffee, Roy deduced, spying the overturned mug lying near the man's head.

Finally realizing he was displaying his inner turmoil, at least enough for his often oblivious friend to be worried and confused, Roy concentrated on the job at hand. He crouched down on the man's right side and hurriedly set up the bio-phone, trying to ignore the hissing accusations spitting from the woman hovering several feet behind the man's head. He assumed she was the poor man's wife; he couldn't imagine anyone else standing for the verbal abuse that was rolling nonstop from her. Probably about ten years younger than her husband, she also had curly blond hair that framed an attractive face and blue eyes; at least Roy thought she might be pretty if her face wasn't screwed up in such an expression of anger and sullenness.

Rolling his eyes up and catching a glimpse of his colleague's visage, he could see that Johnny was getting seriously annoyed with the steady stream of abuse raining down on their patient. The man, however, seemed totally oblivious to the noise; he appeared relaxed and he only winced slightly when Johnny slid his hands carefully down his oddly bent left leg.

"Sir, are you hurt anywhere else?" Gage queried, raising his voice slightly and leaning in over the man's chest to override the cacophonic racket that seemed to be increasing in volume. The man gazed at the younger paramedic and slowly shook his head, rolling his eyes upwards at his wife. Johnny pulled back and turned his head towards Roy, then angled his body in the same direction.

"He's got a tib/fib fracture, Roy…..and that's just about enough of that," he muttered out of the side of his mouth, and rose quickly to his feet. He stepped over the prone man, skirted the glass coffee table that was providing a narrow physical barrier between the married couple, and began propelling the woman backwards, an open, non-threatening palm placed on each of the woman's upper arms as he bent his head and started talking to her. Whatever he said apparently worked as the older woman snapped her mouth shut and plopped down on the couch, eyes wide and tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. Johnny knelt down in front of her and carried on a one sided conversation, punctuating his softly spoken assurances with hand gestures. The woman nodded and smiled wanly and Roy saw that, indeed, she was easy on the eyes; when she reached out both hands and cupped Gage's face with her hands Roy cast his eyes downward and fumbled with the BP cuff, not wanting to see his ever charming colleague's reaction to THAT.

Stethoscope in ears, Roy focused intently on the gauge and marked down the readings. As he scribbled down the rest of the vitals, he played a question and answer game with the middle aged man, who still seemed strangely mellow and pain free despite the circumstances. Although he hesitated before answering each of the questions thrown at him, his replies were coherent and he calmly denied any drug or alcohol usage. It was only when DeSoto immobilized his leg that he actually displayed any indication of pain; the clenching of fists, the tightening of his mouth, and the beads of sweat appearing on his face were the only indicators of his discomfort.

The arrival of the ambulance crew propelled Johnny back over to Roy's side. He deftly inserted an IV while Roy closed down the bio-phone and gathered up the litter. Together the four men packaged and prepared the husband for his trip to the hospital. Tucking the IV bottle up near the victim's shoulder, Gage held out his hand towards the blond haired woman.

"We're taking your husband to Rampart, Mrs. Callahan; did you want to ride in with us?"

"Oh, yes, yes…" She replied in a hushed tone, her voice so different from before that Roy looked over at her in astonishment.

"Maybe some shoes?" Johnny suggested nicely, pointing his still outstretched hand towards her bare feet. She assented just as nicely, fumbling for her sandals, keys, and purse and then finally following Johnny to the door. Roy, perplexed, shook his head in disbelief and trailed behind, lugging a black box in each hand. As they waited for her to lock the door, Gage grinned at his partner and pointed to himself and then to Mr. Callahan, who was on his merry way down the terrace, accompanied by the two straight faced attendants.

"You want me to….?"

"Yeah, please," Roy grunted in reply, trying to force an answering smile. Johnny raised a wary eyebrow but then shrugged. He transferred the dangling HT in his left hand to his right, the HT thumping noisily against the bio-phone case as he let it come to rest on the top of it. Roy jumped nervously at the clunk, earning him another look from Gage. But this time annoyance was clearly visible in the dark eyes and there was no reassuring smile. Just great, Roy thought, I'm so jumpy and paranoid now my partner has lost patience with me.

Johnny moved forward and touched Mrs. Callahan lightly on the shoulder with one finger and bent his head closer to say something to her – to Roy it sounded like "You're husband is going to be just fine, Mrs. Callahan." For some reason the simple sentence annoyed Roy and he bit his lip to keep from voicing his displeasure. Apparently his friend had no problem with listening to people, and being listened to. Would that woman have listened to him? And just what the hell did Johnny say to her, anyway, back in the apartment. Dark thoughts shifted through Roy's head as he merged the call with his earlier argument with his wife. He could feel his displeasure changing to anger at both his wife and his partner. Definitely not warranted, especially with Johnny, but Roy couldn't help himself.

He watched, a scowl on his face, as his gangly partner caught up to the ambulance gurney and assisted the two attendants with maneuvering the stretcher down the cement stairs. He kept several paces behind the now quiet woman, perfectly content with keeping in the background and not engaging her in any conversation. He couldn't help but compare her to JoAnne; this woman was loud and annoying with her voice, whereas Jo kept her voice low and flat when she argued. There was never any screaming in the DeSoto household, oh no, the sarcasm and bitterness could drip just as well when hurled in a quiet, biting tone. Jo had that perfected to an art, maybe it was something passed down from generations of the McClure women, because her mother sure had it down. Come to think of it, Jo's sister, Eileen, did a pretty impressive job of it too. Roy had reluctantly observed several of her fights with her laid back accountant husband. Maybe he and Eileen's husband, Larry, should get together and call their father in law and get some pointers on how to deal with these fiery, stubborn women.

Following in the squad behind the ambulance, Roy chewed on his insecurities like a dog with a meat laden bone. Always confident in his job abilities and the way he handled situations, he could feel that certainty eroding away. All from a stupid quarrel; what was it that made this altercation any different from the dozens they had engaged in before? Roy couldn't pin it down, and tried again to force the bitter fight from his mind. He backed the squad in next to the ambulance and jumped out, carefully closing the door. The two men were just lowering the gurney to the ground and snapping the supports in place. Johnny jumped out behind them holding the glass IV bottle aloft with one hand and the drug box clutched in the other. The HT was strapped over his shoulder; he pointedly ignored Roy as he brushed past him and slipped through the double glass entrance doors.

Roy remained standing in place for a moment, then finally reached into the hearse like ambulance and retrieved the bio-phone. He slotted it back into the squad's compartment and slowly trudged into the Emergency room, heading for the nurses' station. Seeing Dixie working on paperwork there slowed his faltering steps even more, until he realized he was drawing attention to himself, including that of the head nurse. He arrived at the desk and leaned against it, rubbing a hand over his face and finally forcing himself to meet the steady gaze of his friend.

"Roy," she said softly, her voice pleasant as always. Actually, it was downright sexy sometimes and he listened in distraction as she asked him a question, wondering how Dr. Brackett could even work with that voice. Rumor was that they were no longer dating, but it wasn't exactly something that you could clarify, was it?

"Roy DeSoto…earth to Roy!" Dixie raised that sultry voice a little higher and finally caught the musing paramedic's attention.

"Huh? Sorry Dix…." And there it was again, that "not listening" accusation rearing its ugly head and invading the verbal space between them; it was definitely correct this time

"What's wrong? You seem very distracted today."

DeSoto shook his head and let out a gusty sigh, contemplating the possibility of confiding his problems to the sympathetic nurse. Dixie waited patiently, propping up her head with a long nailed hand and gazing at him as he struggled with his dilemma.

"My wife and I…" his confession ended abruptly as his dark haired colleague came barreling out of the treatment room, an enormous grin lighting up his face.

"Hi ya, Dix! Roy, do you want to know how that guy kept his cool the whole time?" Ignoring his partner's annoyed shake of his head the other man continued on, laughing softly as he told the bemused head nurse about the couple's loud fighting.

Leaning in on the counter, Johnny lowered his voice even more and whispered, holding up two fingers as he did so. "Number one – he was wearing earplugs! Earplugs, can you believe that?"

Dixie smiled and laid a steadying hand on Gage's blue jacketed arm, as he rocked backwards on his heels. "And just what was number two, John?"

"Meditation, he's into meditation. So with the plugs in his ears, and focusing in on himself, you know, all that stuff, he keeps himself sane." Satisfaction and awe laced his words as he flung up both hands in obvious glee, then just as quickly turned his head and stared after the young nurse who had just walked past. "Wow….I'll be right back, get our supplies, would ya Roy?"

Not waiting for an answer, the young Romeo rocketed down the hall in pursuit of the cute, red headed nurse. Dixie giggled and smiled fondly; Roy simply stared down at the counter, a blank look adorning his face.

"And there he goes again, our forever madly in love paramedic," Dixie said, watching as the new nurse, Gage in tow, disappeared around the corner. She focused her attention back on the other medic, her amused smile sliding away as she observed his distracted air and watched him trace a pattern on the counter with one finger. "What were you saying about JoAnne?"

Roy lifted his head and shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, she just said something that I'm beginning to think is true."

"Well, what did she say?" Dixie tried to draw him into conversation, glancing at her watch and wondering if she had time to pull the distraught man into the lounge for some liquid gold and healing conversation.

"Dix, do you think that I listen to people? I mean, I just missed most of the conversation between you and Johnny….."

"For heaven's sakes, Roy, I think we all have selective hearing when it comes to John, some of us maybe more than others. Don't use our fearless friend as an example in that area; you would be doing yourself a disservice. John is John, we have to take his couple of quirky little habits and douse them with all of his excellent attributes….. You've been a paramedic, for what, a year now?" At his nod of assent, she continued. "Don't you think that listening to people is one of the necessary qualifications to being a good paramedic? And these are Kel's exact words – partners DeSoto and Gage are one of the best paramedic teams out there, IF not the best, period." She slapped a hand down on the counter in emphasis; Roy was relieved that this time he did not flinch or jump at the sudden noise.

"Thanks Dix, for putting that in perspective. But still, maybe at home…" he trailed off, blinking rapidly as that same reel of tape kept replaying in his mind.

Dix pointed a finger at him and shook it. "All married couples have arguments, Mr. DeSoto. Why is this one rattling your cage so much?"

"That's the big question, isn't it? I don't know, Dix, I keep asking myself the same thing. Maybe because there's some truth in it, perhaps a whole lot of truth."

Dixie leaned slightly to see around Roy as a doctor poked his head out of one of the treatment rooms and beckoned her with a hand. She slid off the stool and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "All I know is that you are a good man, Roy, and that JoAnne is lucky to have you in her life. Things are often said in the heat of an argument that are untrue or take on gigantic proportions of their own. Don't let this one silly quarrel mess up all the good things that you have in your life, including your marriage and your partnership with Johnny. Speaking of Johnny…"

She smiled at Roy and moved toward the exam room, waving at Gage who was strolling back towards them, swinging the HT in his hand and grinning. Whatever has transpired between him and the nurse must have been good; he seemed to have forgotten his earlier annoyance with Roy as he slapped him on the shoulder and bent to pick up the drug box from where he had dropped it earlier.

"Are you ready to roll, partner?" Gage queried. He waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and swiveling his head like an owl to watch all the foot traffic streaming down the hall. Roy stared at him for a moment, chewing over the head nurse's words and debating whether or not to apologize. One thing about the younger man, he supposed that it belonged in his good traits, was that he was quick to forget and forgive the actions and words of other people, especially with his friends. Roy had seen it many times and often marveled at his partner's good nature; it assuredly did not fit within his own personality, of that he was sure. Come to think of it, it wasn't a strongpoint of Jo's either. Maybe that was why some of their fights seemed to carry on – neither one of them could forget or forgive.

"I, uh, didn't get the supplies. We aren't that low on anything, are we?"

"Nah, we'll hold just fine. Last shift must have stocked up right before they got off." The men strolled off side by side down the hall. Dixie, exiting the room right after they passed the door, caught Johnny's voice and smiled as she stopped and watched them leave.

"Earplugs, isn't that someting? I mean, what a great idea, maybe that's what you need to….."


End file.
